


Once Upon A Time

by Little_Bidoo (ComyD)



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Transformation, Betrayal, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Deal with a Devil, Denial of Feelings, Eventual Smut, Fairy Tale Curses, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, Halloween Challenge, Having to work Together, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Oblivious Anduin, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Parent/Child Incest, Peril, Personal Growth, Presumed Dead, Reunions, Riddles, Self-Sacrifice, Suspicions, problem solving
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:42:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27277438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComyD/pseuds/Little_Bidoo
Summary: "So, are you in or out?"Varian stares at the outstretched hand. It’s a deal with the devil no matter which way he looks at it.Set roughly around Legion. Varian wasn't killed but rather captured by Gul'dan and has become the orc's favourite plaything. Unfortunately for Gul'dan losing their leaders has not weakened either the Horde and Alliance. In a cruel bid to torment Varian, and rid himself of the pesky Horde and Alliance, Gul'dan sets up a little game.He'll release Varian, but at the same time he will unleash a curse upon Azeroth. If Varian can break the curse before Hallow's End, he wins. But, failure to break the curse condemns not only Varian but the other players trapped in the curse to terrible fates!Can Varian convince the Horde and Alliance to team up once more to defeat the legion? Will things between him and Anduin ever be the same? It's all a race against time, and Varian has everything to lose.
Relationships: Anduin Wrynn/Varian Wrynn
Comments: 11
Kudos: 17





	1. A Deal with the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> I feel I should say that I had a real struggle to get this done. It's just felt like everything has been going wrong all at once right now, and it was so hard to focus on this. It's kind of why my other works haven't been updated either. I very nearly left the fandom too, but managed to snap myself out of it (with a lot of help).
> 
> So please be kind, I know this really isn't the best I can do, I can definitely improve. So bear with me and be patient if I take ages to update. I will finish what I've started.

_ Crack. _

A hiss of pain escapes through Varian's clenched teeth. His jaw aches from the tension. And he can taste blood on his tongue. The metallic scent of it in the air. From somewhere behind him, he can hear cruel laughter. No doubt that bastard,  _ Gul'dan _ . He grunts as the whip meets his back again. Some demon sneering at him, its eyes glinting with pure satisfaction watching as Varian’s blood pools beneath them.

_ "Enough. _ " A shrill, sharp command breaks through the air. Instantly the whip is discarded and his tormentor casts him one final leer before bowing and disappearing back- to whatever dark hole it is they come from. Panting harshly, Varian snarls as he hears the scuffled steps, indicating Gul'dan is approaching.

"I do hate to do this, but you. _ Just. Don't. Learn. _ " Gul'dan says condescendingly, jabbing at Varian’s ribs with his staff, accentuating his point. His face is the image of false pity. Varian growls, waiting for the grizzled orc to get close before lashing out with his leg. He manages to clip Gul'dan's leg- the bad one, and it earns him a swift blow to the stomach, with that staff. 

"You still don't get it." Gul'dan sighs, sounding as if he's speaking to a child. Varian barely holds back a yelp as his head is yanked back forcefully by his hair. "You're mine. You live only because _ I _ allow it. Soon that whelp of yours will be brought before me. Your actions henceforth determine whether his death will be swift or…" 

Varian screams as the orc extends a glowing hand out to him. The pain feels as if he's burning from the inside out. Tears prick at his eyes and his throat feels raw, no longer able to hold back his cries of agony, body thrashing and writhing- reopening wounds on his back. The grip in his hair keeps him from being able to attempt to move back. Scalp screaming in protest as his hair is pulled harder.

_ "Drawn out." _ Gul'dan finishes with a toothy and rather sinister grin. Withdrawing his hand from Varian's chest- mercifully the pain recedes with it. Varian musters up the resolve to glare. His head is released from the vice-like grip. Gul'dan laughs, the sound hollow before his staff connects once more with Varian's gut. 

" _ My _ , I  _ almost _ admire that fighting spirit. No wonder our forces faced difficulty. I can see why they called you Lo'Gosh. Shame your whelp isn't as fierce as you… _ well a shame for your people that is. _ " Gul'dan wickedly chuckles, it's like twisting a knife in Varian's gut. An incomprehensible pain every time his boy is mentioned.

_ Anduin _ . Kind, caring and undeniably soft Anduin. His boy would think him dead, would have read the letter he entrusted to Greymane. Had Anduin shed tears? He knew the answer, and it tears at his heart. Anduin, wasn’t ready. Still had much to learn before he could be king. His only hope was that Genn would guide him, and would protect him in his stead. A deep ache sets in his chest, not the remnants of Gul’dan’s foul magic, something much deeper and far more crushing. He struggles to breathe for a moment, blinking away unshed tears from his eyes.

Gul’dan snorts, and Varian turns teeth bared like a wild animal. The orc is lounging in his throne, one arm on the arm rest and those red eyes bore into him, that inhuman smirk back on his face.

“That boy of yours is somewhat of a sore spot, hmmmm?” Gul’dan simpers at his silence. It’s almost as if this is a game. Only a few hours earlier Varian had attempted to escape- he had failed, _ unfortunately _ , and had been punished. Yet Gul’dan never seemed to take it further than a beating or an impromptu torture session. It was unnerving and it put Varian on edge. Just what was this orc thinking? What did the warlock want with him? The demons around here clearly would love nothing more than to rip him to shreds.

He does his best to not react to the crimson stare he can feel piercing into him. He’s been forced to kneel before the “throne”, chained like a rabid dog. No doubt a sick way for Gul’dan to show his new trophy, a play at trying to tame him. Gnarled, twisted fingers reach out and scrape along his head, before reaching down and grabbing his chin with a surprisingly strong grip, forcing his head up.

“ _ I see _ . So  _ that’s _ how it is.” The orc seems to find something far too amusing, though what Varian can’t be sure. The cold hollow laughter of the warlock rings out, echoing eerily around them. It has the hair at the back of his neck standing on edge. A chill runs through him, as if his insides have been covered in ice. Gul’dan releases his face with a disparaging smirk, falling back into contemplative silence that’s just as haunting as his laughter.

He has so many regrets. _ How much time had he wasted? _ Time he could have better spent with Anduin. If he had listened to Anduin, to Jaina, would things have ended like this? If he had set aside pride all those years ago and actually listened to Thrall, would Azeroth be a better place? Would Sylvanas still have abandoned them? Would they have rallied and defeated the Legion once and for all?  _ He would never know. _ Would never get to see Anduin grow into a man. See his boy grow as a leader. Now his son, not long eighteen, would be having to consider marriage and securing the bloodline. He knew Genn would push for it. He wants to laugh as he tries to imagine Anduin’s horrified face. His boy was a romantic, always claiming he wanted to marry for love. Would he even get the chance now?

An unpleasant array of reactions washes over him; a foreign hot feeling in his belly, a sinking sensation in his chest, but he swallows them down forcefully. Not quite sure what to make of them. He lets out a sigh, wishing the warlock would kill him and be done with it. His only consolation right now, knowing that at least the Horde was giving the Legion a run for their money. If the loud- what he could only assume were curses, were anything to go by. His beatings had been more severe those days, but he couldn’t deny the satisfaction he felt at seeing the grizzled orc’s sour expression. 

He idly wondered if the Horde had ever explained themselves. If the two factions had resumed their fight- _ after _ the betrayal wrought by Sylvanas. Surprised Vol’Jin would have allowed such an act. He grimaces, he can’t imagine Genn had taken that well. Anduin was going to have his hands full. His heart aches again. He’d left Anduin on his own, would Jaina come back? Then there was Mathias Shaw- it had shocked him to learn that his spymaster had been captured early on, had been being held prisoner by a dreadlord and tortured. A doppelgänger sent back to Stormwind in his place. Gul’dan had taken great pleasure in taunting him. Telling him how it was only a matter of time before Anduin’s head was brought to him. It had clawed and gnawed at Varian- he had no way to measure time here. All he knew was a constant state of fear. The undeniable fear that Gul’dan would be correct and the imposter would get close to his son. That Anduin’s broken form would be dropped in front of him one day.

The day Shaw had been freed, had returned to Anduin’s side. He could not deny his relief. He had wept tears of joy. A small fleeting comfort to cling to in captivity. Anduin was safe. Anduin would endure. Gul’dan had been particularly vicious that day, but he couldn’t care- no matter how badly his body was broken and beaten. Only to be mended straight after, ready for the next time. It was driving him mad. He needed out of here, either death or escape- he had no preference at this point.

  
  


He’s broken out his dark thoughts by the sound of some sort of horn.  _ Great _ . One of Gul'dan's attack forces is returning. No doubt to gloat about the carnage and chaos they’ve caused. The homes and lives they’ve destroyed. Gul’dan seems to perk up. Eyes glinting with malicious glee, he smirks in Varian’s direction. Varian snarls back, refusing to let the warlock wear him down.

Though as the leader of the party draws closer, Varian can sense something is wrong. Gul’dan’s twisted fingers grip his hair. The demon says something to Gul’dan in its cursedl language. Gul’dan is eerily quiet, though he pulls harder and harder on Varian’s hair - he can feel nails digging into his scalp. In the corner of his eye he can see some lesser demon messing around with something. A spoil from their latest venture perhaps? It’s hard to focus when his scalp is suffering such harsh treatment- he’ll be lucky if he doesn’t end up with bald patches.

A loud snarl breaks through his haze, and he watches as Gul’dan uses some sort of fel magic to disintegrate the demon before him. The surrounding clearing has fallen deathly silent.

“ _ Excuses _ . That’s all you bring me!.” Gul’dan releases Varian’s head pushing him forward, so he smacks his face on the ground. The warlock rises and the demons tense some stepping back. Varian can see the one messing around with its trophy not paying attention. Gul’dan also sees this. Much to the unfortunate demons chagrin.

“What’s that?” Gul’dan barks out, extending a crooked arm out, palm upturned expectantly waiting for the other’s prize. The demon shuffles forward and Varian can make out it’s a book. He has to close his eyes and swallow down bile. There are splatters of blood, and other bodily tissue on the book cover. Gul’dan snatches the book, eyes taking in the cover with disdain.

“ _ What _ is this drivel!?” Gul’dan spits, flicking through the pages, growing more irritable by the second. “You fail me and have the _ audacity _ to bring me this useless excuse of a bookr!?” 

Varian winces at the tone, the smell of burning flesh assaulting his nose as the foolish and rather unlucky creature is vaporized before him. Gul’dan tosses the book aside. Varian catches a glimpse of the cover  _ “Fairytales.” _ No wonder Gul’dan was pissed.

“You can’t defeat the forces of a  _ mere _ boy king!?” Gul’dan roars, the surrounding demons cower back, avoiding eye contact. Looking more like pathetic scolded puppies than fierce demons. Though Gul’dan’s words bring Varian joy. Anduin was thriving, and was doing well. Was listening to his military advisers. He closes his eyes and lets out a small sigh. Unable to stop the small smile from spreading on his face.

Gul’dan stomps his way back to his throne. Seething in silent rage. He drums twisted fingers on his arm rest. Eyes glaring sharply at Varian. Varian only has a second before his head is lifted upwards, and he’s face to face with the leathery orc.

“I suppose you think this is some sort of victory?” Gul’dan fumes, tightening his hold on Varian. Varian simply smirks back. It only riles the orc further, his face meets the ground once more and the taste of his own blood coats his mouth.  _ Still _ Varian can’t quite care about the pain. It matters not when Anduin is alive and winning. Gul’dan releases his head, stomping down on the tender flesh of his back with a gnarled foot instead. Varian can only hear his own laboured breaths and the sound of his blood rushing to his head. Gul’dan lets out a long breath- as if calming himself.

“Bring me that.” The warlock snaps, clicking his fingers- at who Varian can’t tell. There’s a faint rustling and a demon approaches handing something to Gul’dan. The flipping of pages indicates it’s the discarded book of children’s stories. Varian scoffs from his place in the dirt.

“Some light reading before your bedtime?” Varian can’t help but laugh out sarcastically. “It’s a bit  _ advanced _ for you though isn’t it?” It’s worth the kick to his ribs and the mouthful of dirt he receives in return. He swears he hears some snickers amongst the watching crowd.

  
  


“You humans are fond of your _ ‘happily ever afters’ _ it would seem. No wonder you’re so soft. What is this rubbish!? Good overcomes evil!? _ Bah! _ Don’t make me laugh.” Gul’dan jeers at him. The book closes with a loud snap. _ “Shall I tell you how this ends?” _

Varian goes to open his mouth to answer- _ he knows it’s rhetorical _ , but the orc left himself open. Gul’dan seemingly sensing this, puts his foot on Varian’s head, pressing down hard enough to silence him, but not enough to do any damage.

“ _ Careful now _ . While you amuse me, that smart mouth of yours is only _ so _ entertaining. I could easily have it sewn or burned closed.” Gul’dan says far too brightly. Clearly these are things he would  _ very _ much like to do. Varian, knowing a losing battle when he sees it, grunts and falls silent.

“ _ A wise choice _ .” Gul’dan sneers. Fingers tapping on the books cover once more. “Now where was I?  _ Oh! Yes _ how this ends. It ends with the destruction of your beloved Azeroth and everything on it. There are no  _ ‘white knights’ _ to save you, no angel will descend from above.” Gul’dan seems to be working himself into a frenzy, several demons step back.

“ _ Or _ , perhaps we kill you and send your cronies back to whatever hole they crawled out of. The people of Azeroth have already done so many times I believe. Maybe it’s  _ you _ who just doesn’t learn.” Varian grits out, spitting dirt and blood from his mouth. He expects another blow for his insolence, but instead he’s met with silence. Chancing a glance over to Gul’dan he sees the orc staring down at the book. Eyes thoughtful. Fingers resume drumming on the tattered cover. Suddenly Gul’dan looks up with a wicked grin.

_ “Is that so?” _

Varian feels on edge. His senses scream  _ ‘Danger!’ _ But there’s nowhere for him to escape too. Gul’dan still has him pinned. He can only watch as the old orc lifts the book and begins leafing through the pages once more, grin widening by the minute.

“This will do nicely. Perhaps I  _ misjudged _ the usefulness of this.”

Varian feels sick. Whatever the warlock is thinking can’t be good. He fails to see how a book of children’s stories can help The Burning Legion, but stranger things have happened he supposes. A warlock like Gul’dan is probably capable of twisting anything.

“How about a _ little game? _ ” Gul’dan moves his foot from Varian’s head, motioning for the king to sit up. Varian is hesitant but slowly rises to a kneeling position. Chains jangling and biting into him uncomfortably. He arches a bruised brow at the orc.

“What if I let you go?” 

Varian gapes, his stomach lurches unpleasantly. Just like that Gul’dan has weakened his resolve, has made him falter-  _ made him hope _ . The warlock laughs. Eyes glowing menacingly as if he thinks Varian stupid. As if the king doesn’t know there’s a catch coming.

“But?” Varian interjects. There’s no sense in beating about the bush, may as well get to the catch now and see what he has to lose. Gul’dan shows those crooked teeth in a frightening smile. 

_ “But.” _ Gul’dan smirks, eyes flaring momentarily. “Of course it’s not so simple. It would hardly be entertaining for me if it were. No Varian Wrynn, I’m going to have you come crawling back to me, begging for mercy by the end of this. I’m going to let you break yourself.”

Varian bares his teeth in a feeble attempt to appear threatening. He can’t see anything the warlock could possibly do to achieve such a thing. As soon as he’s free he’ll find Anduin and- and what? It doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting back to his boy. Gul’dan must see something on his face, for he’s grinning like the cat that got the cream.

“I believe you have a holiday coming up… Hallow's End? Well let's make that the deadline shall we, that gives you what, just over a week. Very generous on my part.” Gul’dan waves his hands, fel magic gathering in his palms. “All you have to do is break the curse I’m about to place. If you can do that before Hallow’s End, you win.”

Varian feels his eyes narrow in suspicion. That seems too straightforward for his liking. There’s a lot the orc is withholding from him. Conditions that can change the whole game. He can tell just by looking into the warlock’s eyes. This is win or die. Varian swallows nervously, he can feel sweat dripping down his neck.

“Of course, it won’t just be you in this game.” Gul’dan continues. “Oh, no. There are a few players on this board, a way to pick you all off in one clean sweep. See if you can’t break my curse, you and everyone else must meet rather tragic fates. Well tragic for you.” Gul’dan cackles at his own joke, body shaking with the force of it. A gnarled hand reaches out, still radiating fel power.

_ “So, are you in or out?” _

Varian stares at the outstretched hand. It’s a deal with the devil no matter which way he looks at it. It’s one thing to condemn  _ himself _ , but  _ others _ ? If he refuses though, he will lose his one chance of escape, a chance to get back home-  _ to Anduin _ . His mind reels. So many variables. Gul’dan doesn’t seem phased with his hesitation, if anything it only seems to please him more. Sucking in a deep breath Varian meets the warlock's eyes. Giving the orc his best defiant glare. Without breaking eye contact he reaches out, grasping the clawed hand. Gul’dan’s mouth is wide, sharp teeth on display in a vicious smirk- like a shark about to go in for the kill.

Magic fizzles around him.  _ He can feel it _ . Watching in trepidation as Gul’dan’s hand seems to ignite with a sickly green flame. A burning sensation on his own hand where he is still touching the orc- though not as painful as touching a naked flame  _ should  _ be. With a sinister cackle Gul’dan releases Varian’s hand and places both of his on the book. The green colour of the fel. It flashes brightly and blinds him momentarily. The book in Gul’dan’s grasp twitches and flies open. Pages flipping and burning till there’s nothing left, but piles of ash. He thinks he hears thunder in the distance, but it’s hard to tell. His senses feel so entirely overwhelmed. 

Gul’dan grasps his hand once more, pulling him close and leaning down. He whispers in Varian’s ear. The words making Varian’s eyes widen. Bile rises in his throat. He’s been tricked. Before he can take back the bargain, before he can so much as curse the orc. The world around him spins and he falls back. Only this time his back meets grass rather than hard stone and dirt. Varian’s hand was still warm from Gul’dan’s touch. The skin tingling and feeling sensitive to the sudden burst of cool air. His vision blurs and for a second he sees the White Lady and Bue Child. Then he sees nothing at all.

_ Only darkness. _ And in that darkness, a cold laugh echoes out.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange storm causes havoc in both Stormwind and Orgrimmar. Though there's nothing natural about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! Here it is part 2! I hope you don't mind the way this one is laid out, I think it will be easier than doing individual chapters.

The sky had become overcast as Anduin made his way towards Lion’s Rest. A journey he had taken so many times he was sure he could do it in his sleep. His heart was heavy, the burden growing with each step forward he took.  _ He missed him. _ Missed his father and king. Varian who had been lost to him-  _ to the Alliance _ at the Broken Shore. Anduin does his best to swallow down the lump that has formed in his throat. The peacefulness of his surroundings not matching the storm in his head.

_ Was there anything he could have done differently?  _ He could have begged and pleaded with his father, it may have made things between them tense and awkward- Varian would surely resent him for acting in such a way. It wouldn’t have mattered though- because Varian would still be  _ here, still be alive. _

The large white tomb appears in his vision. Anduin’s breath hitches and it’s suddenly hard to breathe.  _ How silly of him. _ It’s just an empty tomb-  _ there wasn’t anything of his father in there _ , not even dust. There was nothing, save for his likeness carved into the stone. Anduin approaches, staring down at the stone face of his father. He found it hard to recall if it was a good likeness-  _ were his memories already failing him? _ He wants to scream. A shaking hand comes out, tracing along the king’s face. They hadn’t added his scar. The smoothness of Varian’s cheek seems off,  _ wrong _ somehow. The cold touch of the stone isn’t right either- his father had been warm. Wetness drips onto the carvings face. Anduin sniffs- furiously bringing his sleeve up to wipe his eyes. Crying would not bring his father back.  _ There was no cure for death.  _

He continues to dab at his eyes- the motions becoming more hurried as he hears footsteps approaching. A hand comfortingly reaches out to touch his shoulder. _ Genn _ . Anduin sniffs, doing his best to hide his tear stained face. He wasn’t a boy any more-  _ he was king _ . Kings don’t cry. He had never seen father cry.

“My boy, it’s dangerous to be out on your own. There are those who would jump at the chance to catch you alone and off guard.” Genn rumbles out, speaking to him like one would a child or wounded animal. He straightens himself, doing his best to shed his childishness. Genn was of course referring to the attack that had happened mere hours ago. A demon had made its way in- trying to slay him, only for Anduin to show just how strong he really was. He had reread his father’s letter since-  _ as if the words would miraculously change somehow. _ Varian’s last words to him. His father had  _ known _ he wasn’t coming back. For some reason this only hurts more- like thorns twisting around his heart. 

“I just needed to think, to get some air.” Anduin answers back, maybe a little defensively. The older man doesn’t say anything, instead humming at him. He’s grateful for the lack of answer though. Mind too tired to really focus on conversation. He walks round his father’s tomb- keeping his hand on the carvings head. It relaxes him somewhat- _ for just a few seconds, _ he can pretend everything is fine. That father isn’t gone. That he isn’t king. He knew it was a mantle he would have to take up one day, but he foolishly thought he’d have more time- he did not feel ready.

The sky is darkening at an alarming rate. Genn frowns and looks up- keen nose sniffing. Anduin wants to laugh, _ this is Stormwind _ , a storm is hardly anything out of the ordinary, though its sudden emergence is a little peculiar. He pays it no mind. Brushing his thumb tenderly over one of the tomb carving’s cheeks. Could Varian see him now? He wondered a little morbidly. Would he be proud-  _ probably not _ , what had Anduin actually achieved?  _ Nothing _ . He had done nothing that Varian would be proud of. He had run away- like a coward, _ like a child _ . Instead of facing the truth like a man. Shalamayne glows almost reassuringly from its place on his back. That was one thing he supposed- he had retrieved his father’s sword. Though it was now in the hands of someone unfit to wield it.

“It looks like a storm is coming in. Perhaps we should retreat back to the Keep. We can’t have you catching a chill.” Genn tries to placate him. Making a joke- though Anduin can see the worry in his eyes. He’s saved from answering by the first drip of cold rain on his cheek. He hisses out-  _ it’s so cold _ . Anduin watches in fascination as the rain drop slides of his face and onto the carving of Varian’s-  _ almost as if his father is weeping _ . His stomach churns-  _ an ill omen if ever there was one. _

More droplets begin to fall, and Anduin finds himself being pulled under the pagoda overlooking his father’s tomb. It’s really coming down heavy now! Something seems off though-  _ there’s something about the rain _ , the atmosphere surrounding that has the hair at the back of his neck rising. Genn growls it seems as if he senses it too. A loud clap of thunder echoes out, followed by a crack of lightning, as if it’s cutting the very sky in half-  _ green lightning _ . 

“This is foul sorcery.” Genn growls, nose wrinkling in disgust, teeth bared as if he’s in worgen form. Anduin frowns, the rain starts to take on a greenish tinge. Though as it falls on the ground and surrounding fauna nothing seems to happen. Anduin attempts to reach out and let his hand catch some rain. A sharp hiss from Genn, and the firm-  _ yet gentle _ , pressure of the other king’s arm pulling his back in follows such a decision.

“ _ Anduin! _ Please don’t be foolish! You’re  _ too _ important to risk yourself like that!” Genn snaps, admonishing him as if he had been caught trying to sneak cookies from the kitchen. Anduin sighs,  _ who knows how long this will last. _ They need to get back to the Keep- he  _ needs _ to make sure his subjects are safe. An idea hits him then. Cautiously he focuses on his goal. Crafting a small barrier of light- the rain doesn’t seem to be able to pass through. Genn cocks an unimpressed brow at him. Anduin just shrugs and smiles.

“Seems we are in luck. I have an umbrella after all!” Anduin beams, focusing to make the shield larger-  _ large enough to accommodate the two. _ Genn seems wary but thankfully follows his lead. They don’t meet anyone on their way to the Keep- which isn’t odd in itself, but as they near the Keep there don’t appear to be any guards milling around. Genn growls low in his chest and Anduin feels his mouth run dry.

_ No _ . Instead of guards Anduin is rather shocked to see, ornate suits of armour?  _ What? _ As they enter the Keep courtyard Anduin and Genn are shocked to see various items of furniture and other household items scattered around the courtyard. Who put them here? They’ve just made it into the Keep, Anduin almost trips over a random foot stool, and Genn walks into a bookcase. Both kings look at each other in confusion. There aren’t any guards or other servants in here either. Unease begins to set in, Anduin’s stomach churning. What on Azeroth is going on?

The sky rumbles louder above them. The rain falls heavier. Anduin had not long dispelled the shield, now that they are covered by the arching door of the Keep, when a green flash blinds him- followed by a loud shout of alarm from Genn.

  
  


He feels himself being shot backwards, further into the Keep thankfully. It’s like he’s been dealt a blow from a blunt weapon. His chest burns and he struggles to breathe, it feels just like he’s been winded. When he regains his senses he’s doubled over- on his hands and knees, panting harshly. He seems otherwise unharmed. A strange tingle runs through him, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. Frantically he whips his head round.  _ Where was Genn!? _

Relief floods him. The older king is only a short distance away, seeming to be just as winded as him. Though he also appears to have taken his worgen form. Maybe it was just the suddenness of it all. What had happened?

“Genn are you alright?” Anduin struggles to say, as he scrambles to his feet. Reaching down to help the elder man stand. Genn pants, taking the offered hand with a nod.

“Thank you. I’m fine, what about you? I think I took the brunt of it anyway.” Genn is now standing. He dusts himself off, ears twitching agitatedly. Anduin tilts his head,  _ took the brunt of what? _

“I’m good, a little winded but other than that I’m fine. Uh, took the brunt of  _ what _ exactly?” Anduin asks, looking around. Hearing the commotion a few maids and guards come running- though they pale when they take in the sight before them. Equally, confused by all the furniture scattered around the room.

“That lightning. We took a blow, but we seem fine. How strange, given the magic in the air.” Genn says grimly, eyes scanning the hall and outside the door. A shudder ripples through him. A maid hands him a coat, one made to fit his worgen form. Anduin hides a small smile behind his hand.

“Mia and Tess! Are they in the Keep?” Greymane barks at one of the maids rushing around. The poor woman jumps with fright, before gathering herself and curtseying to the worgen king.

“Begging your pardon Majesty.” She rises from her bob. “Queen Greymane is still in the Keep, but the princess went out I believe.” The maid offers Genn a small look of sympathy before curtseying again and running off. Genn looks so worried. Anduin reaches out and pats his arm comfortingly. Guilt fills him- Tess had gone with Shaw at his request. If he hadn’t asked her to go, she would be here, safe with Mia. 

“Tess is one of the smartest people I know. She has good senses Genn, she’ll be waiting the storm out somewhere safe. Master Shaw is with her too.” Anduin hopes he doesn’t sound as scared as he feels. If anything happened to Shaw too, well the man was in control of the Alliance spy network, and damn good at his job. He prayed for their safety then. Genn paces restlessly beside him. Anduin frowns, surprised the king hasn’t returned to his human guise. 

There’s a scream, and both Anduin and Genn head towards it. A maid is standing with her hands over her mouth, eyes wide. Before Anduin can ask what’s happened, he feels a sharp elbow to his side. Genn motioning with his head. Anduin turns, several maids, guards and footmen are there- but they’re changing shape!  _ How? _ He watches in horror as they turn into various items; a feather duster, a coat rack and more. Anduin turns back to the maid to ask her what happened. Instead, he cries out- stumbling back, for she too is changing, form shifting to become a clock.

“Genn! What’s going on? I don’t understand.” Anduin all but wails at the worgen. Feeling his legs trembling, about to give out. Genn braces him, eyes concerned and wide-  _ scared. _ Anduin swallows, he’s never seen Genn like this. It is more than likely the other king has no idea what’s going on either. Rain continues to batter off the windows and Anduin can only wonder if his time is running out, _ will he be transformed? _

  
  
  


Sylvanas Windrunner- newly appointed Warchief of the Horde, stands on the walls of Orgrimmar city. Her red eyes are trained on the sky, a small crease forming between her brows, invisible to all but one.

“My Lady, is something wrong?” Nathanos asks, voice low from behind her. He had taken to following her like a shadow since she took up the mantle of Warchief. As if he were afraid to leave her unguarded. Something long forgotten stirs in her chest. She forces it down- _ she was dead _ , those feelings didn’t matter. Slowly she takes her eyes off the sky, letting them slide to her second in command. 

Nathanos Blightcaller doesn’t flinch under her unblinking stare. He looks concerned- though he’s doing his best to hide it. He isn’t stupid, she knows. They’ve been together too long for him not to pick up on the signs-  _ there were some things death couldn’t change. _

“The wind’s changed. A storm’s on the horizon.” Sylvanas says softly, eyes turning back to the sky. There are dark clouds looming threateningly in the distance, picking up speed. They will be above the city within the hour. Something in her warns this is no ordinary storm. Nathanos seems to feel the same, she can feel him tense beside her, just as on edge.

“Perhaps we should head in. I have a feeling we don’t want to be caught in this downpour.” Nathanos drawls out, with his usual flare. She smirks at him, glad for the semblance of normality- grateful for his company truth be told. Thunder echoes in the distance, and she feels her eyes narrow-  _ she knows what she saw. _ That lightning was  _ green. _ No, they most certainly did not want to be caught out in this oncoming storm.

“I think that might be a good idea. Something tells me that isn’t natural. What are the Legion up to?” Sylvanas mutters out, to herself. Nathanos sensing it’s a rhetorical question remains silent. Though his frown deepens the more he stares at the darkening sky. 

A strong gust of wind, rushes them. Sylvanas's hair whips around her face. She finds herself even more uneasy, nodding to Nathanos, and jumping down gracefully from the wall edge. It would seem the Legion did not rest. Nathanos falls easily into step behind her, just as he did in life. Their footsteps echoing together calms her somewhat. She isn't alone. Her new title had not been met with adoration and praise-  _ not that she had expected it too _ . The other Horde leaders seemed to only tolerate her for Vol'jin's sake. She cursed that troll, probably laughing at her somewhere in the afterlife. Leading this band of miscreants was not what she had envisioned for herself.

"My lady." Nathanos says, a slight note of shock in his voice. Sylvanas turns to look at him, but he isn't facing her, rather he's looking up. If her heart beat it would be racing. She looks up, the clouds are somehow now overhead! She was right, this was no normal storm. Rain begins to fall. She and Nathanos duck into the nearest alcove. It seems normal, until she catches the slight greenish hue that tints it. There's fel magic infused in there. 

The rain patters of the buildings, but nothing seems to be happening. Is it maybe just residue left over from battle? But then she hears the screams. The people of the city- they aren't pained screams but rather frightened ones. Nathanos purses his lips. Clearly itching to investigate as much as she is. There's a blanket or sheet hanging from one of the windows nearby. Surely the owner wouldn't begrudge them borrowing it to investigate?

Nathanos seems to have the same thought reaching a gloves hand out, and yanking it from its perch. With a dramatic flourish-  _ that she knows is just for her, _ he makes a show of holding it out.

"My lady." He grins, bowing ever so slightly and waiting for her to step under the makeshift umbrella. She flashes him a smirk. His eyes glow with amusement, for a moment she can see the deep brown they once were shining back at her. She swallows uncomfortably and looks away. He says nothing- he knows her too well.

"Let's not waste any more time." She sighs out. They venture out, shielded by the fabric. Sylvanas feels her eyes widen though as they approach the source of the early commotion. The people have been turned to stone! How can this be? Nathanos also stops dead. Red eyes surveying the scene. He looks at her sharply.

"We need to get inside. There's nothing we can do for them at this moment." 

He's right she knows. But she can't help but feel that this will somehow be her fault in the next meeting of Horde leadership- if the others are well that is. She can only look for silver linings really. As they make their way to Grommash Hold, the thunder becomes louder, the wind howling down the streets making it impossible to hear each other. So it’s understandable Sylvanas is rather caught off guard when Nathanos throws himself at her. The both go rolling into the Hold. A strange tingling- which is strange considering her sense of touch had diminished with death, running through her entire body. There’s a ringing in her ears. Nathanos lays sprawled beside her. Smoke rising from his leather jacket.

“Nathanos!” She snaps- hiding the concern. Her champion is still, but given his status she doesn’t know if he’s unconscious or dead for good. A small groan from him, has her sighing in relief. She schools her features back into annoyance- not wanting anyone to know her true feelings or try to exploit them. “Explain yourself.” She commands, folding her arms and arching a brow at him. Nathanos, blinks rather dumbly, before sitting up. He massages his neck looking around a little dazed.

“Dark Lady, are you unharmed?” He suddenly says, eyes wide as they roam over her form. It’s Sylvanas’s turn to blink now.  _ Unharmed? What was he talking about? _ He must see her confusion for his shoulders sag, and he actually smiles- a real smile, the kind reserved only for her. “I see. I was afraid I hadn’t been fast enough. Seems I took the blow from that lightning though.”

Sylvanas wants to reach out and touch him. Even now, he always put her first. Jumping in front of lightning like a knight. Like a Ranger of the Farstriders. She looks away from him suddenly. That was another life- _ a life that would never be _ . Dwelling on _ ‘what ifs’ _ would not bring her or the Forsaken peace. She clears her throat, and is disappointed when his smile disappears. Face returning to its usual mask of indifference. 

They both rise to their feet slowly. Sylvanas now aware that no one has come to greet them. She has a bad feeling in the cavity that was her heart. Nathanos dusts himself, eyeing the scorch on his jacket and shrugging. At least he wasn’t damaged. She watches the rain, it doesn’t show any signs of letting up. She can only sit and wait, hoping the people of the Horde have found shelter. Her mind is already trying to think of solutions for their problem. She’s broken from her thoughts, by the sound of heavy footsteps coming her way. Nathanos steps in front of her-  _ ever the loyal champion. _

To her relief, and she will deny this later, pleasure none other than Varok Saurfang approaches her. His face set in a grim line. Eyes glaring at her suspiciously.  _ Ah, _ this is the part where it’s her fault.

“Warchief. I see you made it safely back to the Hold.” Saurfang grumbles out, saluting her in his usual way. He doesn’t sound sarcastic or disappointed, so she’ll take that as a win.

“Indeed. Though from what I have seen, there are many who didn’t make it indoors.” She levels back at him. Seeing the sorrow in his expression. So he  _ was _ aware of the people becoming stone at least, though there seems to be more. “Is something wrong?” She asks, she doesn’t like surprises.  _ Never has _ . She would rather just have all the information laid out before her.

“I’m afraid not even those inside were spared.” Saurfang says softly. Motioning for her to follow with his head. Nathanos lets out a strange hiss, waiting for her to follow the old orc, before falling in behind her. Saurfang was indeed correct- the guards of the Hold are also stone statues, yet they hadn’t been caught in the rain. _ How peculiar. _ Yet Saurfang, Nathanos and her appear unaffected.  _ Why does that only make the unease stronger? _

  
  
  


Anduin paces the war room, his head is throbbing. He should sleep, but  _ how _ can he sleep? The servants of his keep had been turned into objects! Tess and Shaw were still unaccounted for. Thankfully Mia was safe- her and Genn sitting watching him right now.  _ Nothing made sense. _ How could something like this have happened? He wants to blame the rain, but a lot of the people transformed had _ not _ been outside at all. What’s more, Mia had told them she had opened her window and had been shocked.  _ Was the lightning protecting them from this strange curse?  _

“Anduin, please sit down. Your pacing is making me dizzy.” Mia says kindly from her seat, taking a dainty sip from her tea cup. One they had made sure wasn’t some poor servant. Mia had insisted that a good pot of tea would calm them all. “Genn dear,  _ must _ you stay in that form? You’re shedding over the seats.” Mia calmly states. Anduin has to hide his face so Genn can’t see him smile. The worgen looks thoroughly chastised.

“Yes dear.” The old wolf says, closing his eyes. Only, there’s no change. Genn’s eyes open and he frowns. Face muscles straining as if he’s concentrating really hard. Then shock. “I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” Mia asks curiously, tilting her head and taking another sip of tea. Anduin frowns, that feeling of dread from earlier is back. It seems they hadn’t remained as unscathed as they thought.

“I  _ can’t _ turn back.” Genn sounds panicked, and sensing this Mia reaches out. Her small hand pats the worgen’s arm gently. Genn visibly relaxes, a large clawed paw coming up to cover her hand. Anduin looks away- not wanting to ruin their moment, or eavesdrop. A strange ache in his chest at the sight. 

“It’s OK dear.” Mia soothes, hand stroking Genn’s fur softly. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. It’s fine, I’ll just take the good blanket off the bed. You’re like a furnace in that form anyway. I won't need it.”

Genn rolls his eyes at her good naturedly. Muttering something under his breath about her loving the blanket more than him. Anduin giggles at their antics. Mia flashes him a wink and a smile. His chest loosens slightly and the dread from before doesn’t seem so daunting. Even stuck in his worgen form- _ Genn is still Genn. _ It’s fine, they will find a way to fix this.

“Now it seems to me the cause is magical. So who do we know that can help us with magic related problems?” Mia asks the room. Her hand is still on Genn’s arm. Anduin takes a deep breath- grateful for the nudge to help him focus.  _ She’s right _ , the problem _ is _ magical in nature. He wishes Jaina were here. His aunt hadn’t been the same since the destruction of Theramore- and he couldn’t blame her; what she had lost, what she had seen. It doesn’t make him miss her any less. Kalec, had seen her though- _ though it was a bittersweet farewell _ , but he had seen her alive and well.  _ That _ gave him hope.

Since he couldn’t count on her right now. His next port of call would be either the mages quarter or the Kirin Tor. Surely someone there would know what was going on. Kalec or Khadghar hopefully. Now all they have to do is wait for this rain to die down. It was no longer the downpour it had once been, now just a miserable looking drizzle- but Genn had insisted they not take the risk. After all, if they ended up as furniture, then  _ who _ was going to save Stormwind?

The sound of hoofs on the cobblestones of the courtyard rouse him from his thoughts. A horse? Is there someone out there? Anduin looks over to Genn- the worgen already standing, no doubt having heard it long before Anduin. Mia sighs, but also rises. Like that the three make their way down to the entrance hall. 

As they step into the hall Genn’s posture instantly relaxes. He seems so much more relaxed. Looking ahead Anduin watches as a figure in a red cloak runs into the Keep, shutting the door behind them. The hood of the cloak is pulled down to reveal a bedraggled looking Tess! Very much well- and not furniture.  _ Though, did she leave in that cloak? And, where was Shaw? _

Mia and Genn don’t hesitate, running forward to embrace their daughter. Anduin steps back- giving the Greymane’s their privacy. Ignoring the bitter taste in his mouth at the sight, and the hot jealousy burning in his gut. A tug on his sleeve, and he finds himself being pulled into the group hug. Tess wraps her arms around him. For a second Anduin feels like crying, is this what it’s like to be part of a family. Sure his dad had hugged him plenty of times- but he’d never known his mother and never had any siblings. This, this felt nice.

“Oh Tess, we were so worried.” Mia sighs out, eyes looking over her daughter worriedly. “We feared the worst when we learned you were out.”

Tess smiles reassuringly, patting Mia’s shoulder and rolling her eyes as Genn pulls her in for another bear hug. She locks eyes with Anduin, and he notices the small tremble of her lips, the way her eyes look almost fearful.

“I’m afraid it’s not all good news. Master Shaw… I’m not  _ quite _ sure how to put this but-”

“Oh! There’s no easy way to tell them! Just show them already, it’s cramped in here!” Shaw’s voice cuts Tess off. The Spymaster sounds irritable and less than impressed. Anduin looks about, but can’t see the man- yet his voice sounded so close. Genn and Mia are also looking around. Tess worries her lip, before reaching down to her satchel. Her audience watches her with varying degrees or bafflement.

Tess pulls her hand out her bag, revealing a frog? The frog puffs up slightly, green eyes staring round at the spectators- looking very unimpressed. In fact Anduin’s seen that expression before somewhere…

“Uh, well here he is.” Tess holds the frog out with a sheepish smile. _ “Ta da” _ she adds weakly. The frog rolls its eyes- yes that is very much Master Shaw. Anduin is sure his mouth is open.

“I’d warn you about the dangers of leaving your mouth open and flies finding their way in, but it would be like the pot calling the kettle at this point.” Shaw says dryly. Anduin hasn’t uttered a word. Neither have Genn or Mia. In fact Genn is reaching out to poke at Shaw. The spymaster hisses in annoyance.

“ _ Watch out! _ Those claws are much more lethal when I’m the size of an apple!” 

Genn sheepishly pulls his hand back, shrugging as Mia levels him with a stern glare. Tess is looking very uncomfortable.

“What happened?” Anduin blurts out tactlessly.  _ “You’re a frog.” _ He adds, as if no one else can see this. Shaw sighs, but no one else reacts- perhaps they were in the same mindset.

“We’re not sure.” Tess answers, “We were in Elwynn, when the storm started. Oh, Anduin it was horrible! The rain, it made the trees change! It was like they had minds of their own, they tried to attack us. We were just about clear of the forest when we got hit with lightning! When I came to, Master Shaw was a frog!” Tess wails out, thrusting frog Shaw in Anduin’s face. Genn growls lowly beside him.

“This damn storm! A ploy by the Legion or by the _ Horde? _ ” He snarls, teeth bared, hackles raised. Mia pats his shoulder in an effort to calm him down- before Sylvanas’s name is mentioned more likely. Anduin finds himself frowning, taking Shaw from Tess. He doubts the Horde would do something like this-  _ then again he’s been wrong about many things. _

“Where is everyone? Also, why is there so much furniture?” Tess asks. The hall is silent.  _ No one wants to answer. _ No one wants to admit the truth. Shaw is gazing at Anduin, buggy eyes burning through to his soul.

“It’s not furniture. Well it wasn’t originally. I’m afraid all the objects you see were in fact the staff of the Keep.” Anduin sighs out. Shaw’s eyes widen, which is rather alarming- given how small he is. Tess seems to pale- gazing around and taking in the sight and the knowledge. She brings a hand to cover her mouth. 

“What’s our course of action, your Majesty?” Shaw asks, business as usual. As if he’s not a tiny frog. Anduin wants to laugh- not because it’s funny, but rather because he needs to get rid of the hysteria building inside him. More than ever he wishes his father were here. Varian would probably be just as stumped as the rest of them- but his presence alone would have been a comfort. He could really do with one of his dad’s hugs right about now.

“I believe Master Shaw, once the rain clears, we are headed to Dalaran.” Anduin says, meeting the eyes of everyone in the room. Mia offers him a comforting smile and a nod.

“Right!” Mia claps her hands, drawing attention to her. “I believe a spot of tea is in order, who knows how long we will be waiting. I think we could all calm our nerves. Now, I will have to see if there is a cup your size Master Shaw.”

Genn heaves out a sigh, but follows after Mia as she heads to the kitchens. Tess and Anduin look at each other, Tess shrugs and follows suit. Not wanting to be left behind, Anduin follows them, placing Shaw on his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oho! Oh dear, what have they got themselves into? 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> P.S we have a discord for the ship, if you are interested drop an email to: the.little.bidoo@gmail.com


	3. Not Your Average Walk in the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Horde plan their next move, while Anduin desperately searches for any survivors of the curse. A trip to Elwynn proves dangerous and yet yields a surprise reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, it's been ages!!!! But here we go, I apologize for the lengthiness. Also, for any typos, it's rather late, and I'm too impatient to wait until tomorrow. Not very professional I know, but please forgive me!

When he wakes, his vision is limited. At first Varian wonders if it’s his eyes, his sight that’s blurry, but a few blinks and a slight pawing of his eyes, and he realizes that  _ no _ , it’s definitely  _ not _ him. Wherever he is the air is murky, a thick fog makes it impossible to make out his location or even _ anything _ beyond the reach of his arm.  _ Was this some ploy by the orc warlock? Was he doomed to be trapped here, to wait for his inevitable tormentor? _ Varian snarls, he won’t die so easily. Won’t break, no matter what gets thrown at him.

He takes a hesitant step forward. His senses going off, not liking the uncertainty, walking into the unknown. He reaches up to his shoulders, just pure muscle memory. But Shalamayne isn’t there. It’s no doubt lost to him now, lying on the broken shore or a trophy of someone’s. He had wanted to pass it down to Anduin-  _ not that his son would probably approve. _ Anduin had never been one for swordsmanship. It didn’t matter now anyway, he wasn’t going to see him again,  _ so why dwell on what he had planned? _

Varian presses on, stumbling over gnarled roots, and almost walking into twisted tree trunks on more than one occasion.  _ Is he in a forest? _ It’s like no forest he’s ever seen before, it’s deathly silent- save for the odd random groaning sound. No birds, no insects, no animal life of any kind. He bites his lip, hating that he has no weapon. Until he pats himself down, and finds, strapped to his leg,  _ a strange dagger. _ It’s blade is twisted, the metal black, he’s never seen anything like it before. The hilt isn’t heavily decorated, just simple brown leather, with silver trim. But as he holds it in his hand, he feels it grow warm, strange green symbols appearing along the blade and on the hilt. He recognizes that eerie green- _ fel! _ He wants to drop it. Leave it to rot, but it’s his only weapon… His practicality wins out in the end, and he holds it, ready to use it to strike anything that comes close. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he feels that he is looking for something. Something-  _ or someone _ , important, but he can’t quite place it.

From the depths of the fog he hears a strange creaking sound. He feels something brush against his foot. Varian tenses, dagger waiting to slash.  _ Nothing happens though. _ Sweat trickles down the back of his neck, his own heart thumping away in his chest. The sound becomes distorted in this silence.  _ But still nothing happens. _ Varian bares his teeth. So he’ll just have to keep going? Until he dies or actually makes it out of here? He hates these games, but if it gets him away from Gul’dan he’ll take his chances. Closing his eyes to take a calming breath he sees a pair of blue eyes.  _ So familiar they cause his chest to ache _ .  _ Yes _ , that’s why he’s doing this. He wants so badly to get home to Anduin. Feeling his head clear. Varian pushes forward. Nothing will stop him. No warlocks, no demons and certainly no hellish dreamscape!

So, he continues to wander in this fog. Hoping he finds his way soon. All the while the dagger continues to glow.

  
  
  
  


Sylvanas massaged her temples, true she didn’t  _ quite _ feel pain the way she had when she was alive. If anything the gesture was just a remnant of a memory long ago, another life even. She resisted the urge to scream, the dull ache in her head probably wouldn’t appreciate it. Still Lor’themar droned on, either oblivious to her plight or simply uncaring.

It had become apparent, Orgrimmar wasn’t the only place to be hit by the fel rain. The dark magic had spread across the various territories of Thunder Bluff and Silvermoon City. Baine, would not say what had become of the Tauren caught in the downpour, but there was a glimmer of fear in his eyes, and while she would never admit it out loud, it worried her. The inhabitants of Silvermoon, had become encased in some sort of crystal, immobile and much like the citizens of Orgrimmar, frozen in time. No one seemed to be able to make a connection as to why some people had been spared while the majority had been cursed.

They had yet to receive word from Gallywix, and Sylvanas wasn’t sure whether to take this as a sign of trouble  _ or _ a blessing. No one seemed greatly concerned for the obnoxious Trade Prince’s well-being, in fact he had been mentioned  _ once _ the entire meeting. At least she had that much in common with the faction leaders.

“Could this be a trap set by the Alliance?” Lor’themar finally asks, the question hanging heavy in the air. Truth be told she had considered it at first, but it made  _ no sense. _ No one-  _ as far as she was aware _ , within the Alliance would consider fel magic, and from what she could recall, Proudmoore had been missing in action since Khadghar had suggested allowing the Horde back within the city of Dalaran. While Lady Jaina was no fan of the Horde, her resorting to using fel seemed a little  _ too _ far-fetched for Sylvanas. 

“The boy king is an advocate for peace, hardly the sort to resort to such underhanded methods.  _ Far too soft. _ ” Sylvanas muses, enjoying the way Bloodhoof’s nostrils flare ever so slightly.  _ Oh _ , she was well aware of the little friendship that existed between the Tauren Chieftain and the Alliance King. That was something she would need to nip in the bud, lest it become dangerous and threaten  _ her _ position. It was no secret she wasn’t well liked. Losing the Tauren to the Alliance would be damaging to the Horde as a whole, she could not allow that.    
  
“King Anduin would do no such thing.” Baine snapped irritably-  _ so predictable _ , Sylvanas can’t help but think. Biting back the scoff threatening to spill from her lips. “This has to be the work of the Legion, they’ve grown bolder since-” Baine cuts himself off sharply, looking wounded. No one needs further prompting to fill in the blanks, he had been good friends with Vol’jin. His loss had been felt keenly by the young bull.

“Perhaps we should seek out the knowledge of a neutral party?” Saurfang speaks up, looking down at the table, deep in thought. It’s the first  _ useful _ suggestion that’s been made this entire meeting. Sylvanas rests her cheek in her hand, feigning boredom as she waits for the old soldier to elaborate. He lets out a tired sigh, Sylvanas is surprised to find herself sympathizing.   
  
“The Kirin Tor, could perhaps shed some light. If they haven’t been  _ afflicted _ by this curse.” Saurfang grumbles out. The table falls silent for a few moments then, like a flash of lightning she feels all eyes on her. The pounding in her head has blessedly dulled, yet she feels a strange scratching in her throat. She clears it uncomfortably, shifting to hide the discomfort she feels under those scrutinizing stares. _ They are waiting for her to make a decision. _ She’s never felt so crushed under the weight of leadership as she does now. Nathanos, very subtly reaches out, fingers flexing agitatedly in those gloves of his.

She understands the sentiment. He wants to offer comfort, but at the same time he does not want to make her look weak. She gazes at him from the side of her eye, nodding very subtly to him. She knows what she must do now.

“An excellent suggestion, old soldier. At least  _ someone _ at this table can do more than gripe and cast baseless accusations.” She pointedly stares at Lor’themar. The Regent Lord huffs at her but wisely stays quiet. “Very well then. We shall make preparations to depart for Dalaran in the morning. I think we could  _ all _ do with the rest for now.” Sylvanas tries to smile,  _ she really does _ \- but it’s been so long, and she ends up simply smirking. Saurfang grunts at her and rises, leaving without so much as a backward glance. She’ll take it as a small victory for now. Normally the veteran orc would offer a lecture of sorts, but it seems the events of the last day have still drained him. 

“As you command Warchief.” Baine rises from his seat, at least having the decency to salute her before he too follows after Saurfang. His expression betraying his emotions, he’s probably off somewhere to cry about Vol’jin or perhaps write the little lion some sappy note. Whatever it was she could deal with it later. Lor’themar is still seated regarding her as if she were the most interesting thing in the room.

“You’re unusually quiet.” The Lord Regent says, his one eye looking her over. His expression is unreadable. “While I understand your reservations about Anduin Wrynn, need I remind you of Lady Proudmoore and King Greymane. Neither are your biggest supporters, in fact I believe Greymane even bears a  _ personal grudge. _ ” 

Sylvanas frowns.  _ Of course _ , she had considered, but Genn Greymane wasn’t fool enough to stoop  _ that _ low to get revenge. Nor would Jaina Proudmoore.  _ No _ , they would both be far more flashy, and she would know right away when they inevitably made their move against the Horde, _ against her. _ She shook her head, this she was certain, was a move by the Legion to sow even more discord amongst the ranks. Killing Varian Wrynn, she had expected that to cripple the Alliance. Yet the boy king’s resilience troubled her. He had not rolled over and shown his belly as she had suspected. Instead, he had proven himself to be a somewhat capable leader, if still a little naive. He would have to be watched that was for sure, she couldn’t let his light and softness infiltrate her ranks.

“I think you’ve grown paranoid. If it hadn’t been fel magic, I would have agreed with you. But even the Alliance has standards-  _ low as they may be. _ ” She can’t help the sour wince on her face, thinking of her sisters. Vereesa's rejection still stung bitterly, Nathanos shifts beside her. She had forgotten he was there, so had Lor’themar judging by the slight jump.

“The Warchief has stated our course of action. I suggest following it, lest you find yourself branded a traitor.” Nathanos spits out. Eyes glinting at Lor’themar with contempt, it was no secret her champion had no fondness for the Regent Lord. She bites back a smirk, as much as she’d love to watch them toss insults, her headache is troubling her once more, now accompanied by a strange sensation in her throat.

“That will be _ all, _ Nathanos.” Sylvanas says calmly, holding her hand up to halt his tirade. The man deflates ever so slightly but sits back in his seat. Glowering at the Blood Elf leader at the other end of the table instead. “I suggest you get yourself some rest Lord Regent. Tomorrow may not be so  _ relaxed _ .” She says coldly, rising from her chair with grace. Nathanos follows after her, wordless as always. She can feel Lor'themar’s eye on her the whole time.

“Do you think the Kirin Tor will offer aid?” Nathanos asks once he’s certain they are alone. Sylvanas frowns, she had considered this too. But the Kirin Tor were neutral and as such  _ had _ to help them. However, something else had been bothering her.   
  
“My concern isn’t the Kirin Tor. It’s the Alliance. Just because it’s unlikely they weren’t behind this attack doesn’t mean they won’t use it against us. Our strongholds are vulnerable and wouldn’t be able to withstand an attack.” Sylvanas stares into the distance, a thousand scenarios playing in her mind.

“I thought the same.” Nathanos adds, sharing her look, leaning against the wall looking far too human for her liking. It brought an ache to her chest, recalling a young man leaning against a farm fence. She shakes her head and pointedly looks away. “ _ But _ , what if they were hit too?”

Now that is an interesting point. The Alliance could be  _ just _ as vulnerable as them. She secretly hopes Greymane has become a statue. She knows just the place she would put him. Nathanos smirks as if he can read her mind. She smiles wickedly.

“Well there’s no point in speculating. Let's rectify the problem within our own ranks. Perhaps the others will be  _ warmer _ to my leadership if we can free our citizens.” Sylvanas shrugs, resuming walking to her quarters. Nathanos parts ways with her then, no doubt off to patrol the perimeter and ensure her safety. For the first time that day she finds a small smile spreading on her lips, as she watches him fade from her sight. She turns back to own path, heading for the battlements instead, hoping the air will help clear her mind.

She doesn’t expect to come across Saurfang. The veteran staring out at the vast desert, absorbed in his own thoughts. She takes stock of the way his shoulders hunch, as if carrying some great weight-  _ survivor’s guilt,  _ more than likely _. _ She should turn and leave him be, but the Ranger General in her, stops her. A good leader should be able to offer comfort to her subordinates. Quietly she approaches him, surprised when his senses don’t kick in and tell him of her approach. 

“High Overlord.” She says softly, trying not to smirk at the slight jump. He turns weary amber eyes to her, looking  _ so very _ old and so tired. She feels the smirk drop off her face, it’s unusual for an orc to be so openly vulnerable. “Is there something on your mind?” She really does try to sound sympathetic, but death has left her tones cold and harsh. Not to mention this scratch in her throat is really bothering her. He simply rolls his eyes at her and lets out a sigh.

“ _ Besides _ our brothers and sisters being turned to stone? Our strongholds left defenceless,  _ and _ no certainty of this being reversed?” He grouses out. She scowls at his sarcasm, she’s well aware of how dire the situation is.  _ Her people were turned to stone too! _ Not to mention she’s had no word from Undercity. She bites her tongue, to stop herself from answering back in the heat of the moment. Sylvanas had moved past those base emotions now. She was the Banshee Queen. 

“Of course.” She answers thoughtfully, doing her best to keep the venom from her words. “I understand that, I was merely enquiring after your _ own _ well-being.” She finally spits out, keeping her eyes on the horizon lest she betray her discomfort and irritation at the situation. She can sense Saurfang’s gaze on her, the old orc letting out a deep sigh. His arm moving onwards his face. She can only surmise that he’s rubbing his hand over his face.

“Forgive me. I spoke harshly.” Saurfang grumbles out, taking a step back as if he’s going to head back into the Hold. Sylvanas frowns, feeling ever so slightly miffed that she’s making an effort, and he’s throwing it back in her face. 

“It’s been a long day, old soldier.” Sylvanas says, voice low. She feels him pause at the stairs. “It would be best to get some rest, tomorrow could be  _ just _ as bad.” She doesn’t turn to see if he’s heard her, or if he’ll even respond. She feels the weight of his eyes on her for a few moments before he simply grunts and walks back into Grommash Hold, leaving her on her own. 

Sylvanas closes her eyes trying to recall what the feeling of the wind on her face was like. But she feels nothing. Nothing but the dull throb in her head, and the ache in her throat. 

  
  
  
  


Reverence let out a whinny. Agitation rolling of the horse, his eyes darting about, nostrils flaring. He had clearly been spooked. Anduin does his best to calm the beast, petting his neck, whispering words of calm, but he can feel the tension from where he’s seated. Despite the rain having subsided hours ago, the atmosphere still has the lingering feel of malice and treachery. Anduin shudders in the saddle.

“Perhaps we should turn back, my boy.” Genn calls to him from ahead. The old worgen had insisted on accompanying him.  _ As had Tess, Mia and Shaw. _ So they had drawn lots and Greymane had been selected. Those wolf eyes turn back to him, narrowed as if suspicious of the very air around them. Muzzle curled back, revealing pointed canines. He seems just as uncomfortable as Reverence. Anduin hesitates. He knows this is probably a fool's errand, but he owes it to his people to check for those unaffiliated. A search of the city had proved futile.  _ Though surely, some outlying villages had to have been spared!? _ He can’t turn back till he’s checked, seen it with his own eyes.

“Sorry Genn, just a little more. There’s just one more village to check, just by Elywnn, and then we can turn back.” Anduin answers, resolute in his decision. Truth be told he was anxious. They had sent out letters to their neighbours, to their allies. There seemed to be some sort of invisible barrier blocking the Deeprun Tram. So he couldn’t tell if the Dwarves and Gnomes were safe and likewise no one seemed to have been able to cross to their side. He was still waiting on word from Velen as well as Tyrande. It was unusual for them to keep him waiting so long. His stomach churns, fearing that he may truly be on his own.

“It’s fine Anduin. We’ll get through this. I promise you, you won’t face it alone.” Genn says uncharacteristically soft. Anduin looks down at his saddle, feeling a lump of emotion in his throat. That was right. Genn, Mia, Tess and Shaw were still here. It may be a small group, but they supported him,  _ they had his back. _ He smiles back at Genn, feeling less burdened. Genn clears his throat awkwardly. Clearly still not used to being so emotionally open around him. 

“Yes, it’s like King Greymane says. We can get through this.” 

Anduin and Genn jump. Looking around almost comically, eyes round, Genn looks ready to pounce. Then there’s a small movement in Anduin’s saddlebag and the pieces fall into place.  _ Shaw! _ Anduin reaches in and pulls his Spymaster turned frog out, sitting him on the pommel of his saddle. Both royals regard him curiously waiting for any sort of explanation.

“Forgive the intrusion. I just thought having an extra pair of…  _ eyes _ , would be helpful.” Shaw says, eyes looking around as if to emphasize his point. Anduin bites back a grin, while the situation is grim, seeing frog Shaw is still a bit of a novelty to him. Genn seems less amused with it though.

“Need I remind you, that you are in fact a  _ frog _ ?” The worgen king grumbles out, sticking his snout a little too close to the spy. Shaw puffs out,  _ as if trying _ to be intimidating. Anduin lets a small snort escape him. It earns him two reproachful glares. 

“Well, look at that!” Shaw, gestures to himself, voice ridiculously cheery. “What do you know,  _ I am a frog _ .” Just like that the spy’s face becomes deadpan, and he stares at Genn. Anduin can’t take it any more and lets out a laugh. Shaw scoffs in offence.

“Don’t get sarcastic with me! Need I remind you I could eat you in one bite!” Genn snaps, he seems oddly worked up. Perhaps the events of the last day had finally taken their toll on him. It couldn’t be comfortable to be stuck in worgen form for such a long period of time. Perhaps that was only making the king crankier. Anduin scoops Shaw up-  _ just in case. _

“OK, OK!” Anduin calls out, silencing the two older men. “I know it’s frustrating, but Master Shaw, Genn’s right. You’re in a  _ really _ vulnerable position right now, and I can’t lose you. Not after we  _ just _ got you back!” Anduin says, feeling a little tearful at the memory. Of how bad Shaw had looked. He shakes his head rounding on Genn. “And you!” He points at the worgen. “Under  _ no _ circumstances will there be  _ any _ eating of Master Shaw!  _ Be nice! _ ” Anduin chastises the older king, and tries not to think how surreal the whole experience is. 

Thankfully both men fall silent, glaring at each other petulant. Anduin can live with that, it’s better than trying to stop a large worgen eating a frog. Reverence comes to a sudden halt. Snorting and pawing at the ground. Shaking his head, his mane billowing around almost like smoke in the air. Genn too has frozen, lips curled back, a feral snarl coming from him. Shaw blinks at Anduin, and Anduin blinks back. Seems they aren’t as attuned to danger as they would like to believe. Anduin tries to spur his horse forward, but Reverence refuses to obey, stubbornly digging his hooves into the ground. Even neighing loudly in protest. Anduin can tell it’s a losing battle. 

“We should turn back. There’s nothing here but evil.” Genn growls out, eyes narrowing as he stares ahead. Anduin follows his gaze. Elwynn. Or at least he thinks so. The forest seems  _ wrong _ , shrouded in a dense fog that seems to creep no further than the forest boundaries. The trees twisted and gnarled, caging it in, looking almost like the ribs of some hellish creature. Anduin swallows. Fear prickling along his spine.  _ He should turn back. _ No one has been spared. He knows it’s the truth deep down, and yet he dismounts from his horse. Genn and Shaw make strange sounds, both of frustration.

“Majesty, King Greymane is right. We shouldn’t go any further. What if you and Greymane are turned into frogs too?” Shaw sounds almost frantic. Waving his small  _ arms? Legs? _ Around in the hopes of dissuading Anduin from this foolish venture. 

“Shouldn’t we just check? In and out no more than five or ten minutes.” Anduin says, though it sounds as if he’s trying to reassure himself. Genn lets out a long-suffering sigh, holding a paw out for Shaw to leap into. Two sets of eyes bore into him, as he secures Reverence to a nearby tree. The horse seems happy he’s going no further, munching on grass and turning his back to the woods. Anduin takes a hesitant step forward. Something in him is urging him forward. Like he’s supposed to enter that forest. He should resist but in the end curiosity wins out.

Anduin takes his first step into the woods. A strange shiver runs through him, for a second that tingly sensation is back, but it’s gone just as quickly as it came. The fog is  _ so much _ worse than he anticipated. He can barely see three steps ahead of him- almost falling over an upturned root more than once, and saved only by Genn’s reflexes. Around him, he hears rustling and creaking… for some reason it reminds him of being on a ship. His heart hammers in his chest, not being able to make sense of his surroundings is setting his nerves alight. He’s so painfully aware of his own fears. Anything could be lurking, and yet he’s not marching himself home-  _ why!? _

He’s finally about to tell the others to turn back, when he comes to a sudden realization.  _ They aren’t behind him! _ Panic overwhelms him then. It’s dizzying. His breathing accelerates, his palms sweat. Eyes darting all over. He opens his mouth to call out-  _ only _ , he never gets a chance. Something heavy and hard hits him from behind sending him sprawling.

Anduin heaves a breath, that blow had winded him. He tastes that familiar iron taste in his mouth. He must have bit down on his tongue or cheek when he fell. Anduin picks himself back up as quick as he can, whirling to face his assailant. Only,  _ there’s no one there. _

Anduin staggers back, turning round, searching for his mysterious attacker. Another blow catches his back, he stumbles forward, barely stopping himself from going down. He’s so disorientated in the fog. Something brushes past his ankle, wrapping around it and pulling him down. To his horror he realizes who, or rather  _ what _ his attacker is.  _ It’s the trees themselves! _ The roots, drag him towards nothingness. Anduin grabs Shalamayne from where it’s perched on his back. Swinging it down and hacking at the roots holding him. Once free he scrambles to his feet, yelling for Genn and Shaw as he does. He manages to parry a few blows from the branches, but there are too many, and he finds himself back on the ground. Panting for breath and feeling woozy.

He thinks he hears Genn howl in the distance, but it could be wishful thinking. He struggles to sit up, his muscles are bruised and his body screams in protest. Anduin finds himself come under fire once more, this time the roots hold him in place, for what he’s not sure as he screams, trying to break free of their hold. Suddenly _ , someone _ bursts into his line of vision. But it’s hard to make out  _ who _ \- what with the fog and his blurred vision from tears of fright. At first, he thinks it might be Genn, given the size. But this is  _ definitely human _ , rather than worgen. 

The branches loosen as they change their target. He manages to get to his feet, deciding to help this mysterious saviour-  _ for now _ . He frowns when they slash messily at branches with something that glows a familiar shade of green. Suddenly Anduin feels nauseous.  _ Perhaps this isn’t an ally _ … He’s caught off guard, sent sprawling by the limb of a tree. His rescuer catches him and Anduin almost faints.

**_It’s his father!?_** _But how? Why?_ So many questions flood through his mind and his first instinct is to hug the man before him. His father has other ideas, frowning and pushing him back. His eyes are wild as if he does not recognize Anduin. Anduin’s stomach lurches unpleasantly at the thought.

“Father! It’s me!  _ It’s Anduin! _ ” He cries trying to grab onto the man’s arm. Varian stumbles, eyes wide as he stares back at Anduin. Recognition flashes on his face, before it’s replaced with a snarl.

“I won’t fall for such a trick!” Varian snaps, puffing himself up, reminding Anduin of just how large he is. “My son is home. Safe and out of your reach  _ warlock! _ ” Varian snaps, brandishing the dagger. Anduin swallowed nervously. He has no idea what trauma his father has suffered.  _ Or even if this is his father.  _ Anduin takes a step back warily. Varian doesn’t follow and they both stare at each other, waiting to see what the other will do.

Unfortunately the same can’t be said for the trees of Elwynn. They still reach out, trying to snare them or batter them- Anduin’s not sure. He slashes with Shalamayne. Feeling Varian’s eyes on him.

“My boy would never wield a sword! You're a demon trying to trick me!”

Anduin barely dodges the stab of the dagger. Eyes wide, and unsure of how to fight his father. He does what he knows best.  _ He calls on the light. _ Varian’s next attack misses, bouncing off a shield of light. The former king’s eyes widen, and he seems unsure. Anduin keeps his shield up, not wanting to be killed by his father.

Varian looks as if he wants to say something, that is until a worgen barrels into him. Genn seems out of breath, his coat torn. Anduin’s glad to see Shaw peeking out his top pocket though.

“My boy! Are you injured?” Genn asks, voice raspy as he extends a paw. Eyes narrowing on Varian, snarling angrily. That snarl dies as Varian turns to face him. They seem to come to a standstill.  _ “What sorcery is this?” _ Genn barks out, standing in front of Anduin. Varian seems to grow angry, getting into a fighting stance.  _ Anduin has to stop this! _

**“ENOUGH!”** He calls out, shocking the two older men. “Let's get out of here first,  _ and then _ duke it out to see who’s real and who’s an imposter.” He puts on his most kingly voice. Trying not to falter under his father’s haunted stare.  _ It must be him _ , no demon could be this convincing. Genn and Varian deflate ever so slightly, not breaking eye contact as they nod to each other, turning their weapons on the surrounding trees.

It’s amazing how well they work together. Slashing, cutting, clawing at anything that’s foolish enough to come at them. They make good ground, following Genn’s senses, as he recalls the route that led them here. Anduin could almost sob with happiness when he caught a brief glimpse of blue sky.  _ Just a little more. _

He’s so caught up looking ahead, that he fails to register the warning cries of Genn and Shaw. He turns his head, and everything seems to slow down. The trees seem to disapprove of their escape, changing tactics. A pointed branch hurtles towards Anduin, he can’t bring his weapon up to defend him on time. His tongue was heavy with shock. It will go straight through him!  _ He closes his eyes _ .

Anduin hits the ground. Yet he feels no pain, only warmth. Hesitantly he cracks his eyes open, and then goes into full alert mode. Varian hovers above him, barely holding his weight off Anduin, his normally strong arms buckling.  _ There’s no doubt this is his father _ . That scar, those eyes, so much like his own and yet _ so _ different. The grimace of pain. But it’s the look in his eyes that has Anduin. As if seeing him for the first time. Anduin can’t stop his tears, surprised to see Varian’s eyes becoming watery. 

A calloused thumb, strokes Anduin’s cheek. Varian almost collapses on him. Anduin reacts, wrapping his arms around his father to support him. He tries not to vomit at the sight, or scream. He swallows, hesitantly reaching out to see how thick the branch is.  _ For you see, Varian took the blow. _ The branch impaling him through his shoulder-  _ dangerously close to _ his heart. He needs emergency healing and he needs it  **now.**

“Genn! Help!” Anduin shouts, pleased when the worgen appears. They exchange a silent conversation. Anduin tightens his hold on Varian, stroking his father’s sweat soaked face and trying to keep a smile on his face- something to reassure him it will be fine. What they are about to do, will bring him an immeasurable amount of pain. Anduin nods, not breaking eye contact.

_ Varian screams. _ Genn has used Shalamayne to cut the branch, but it pulls and twists at Varian. Finally, his father slumps forward. Breathing laboured, and the sheen of sweat growing heavier. Anduin has to work fast. He calls on the light to give him strength. Trying to ease his father’s pain as he wrestles the chunk of branch still in his shoulder out of him. Varian thrashes,  _ even under Genn’s grip. _ Howling like a wounded beast.  _ Anduin cries silently.  _

Finally, it’s out. Red blood gushes from the wound, and Anduin hurries to heal it. The wound is slow to close- mainly due to its size,  _ but at last! _ It’s sealed over. Varian is pale, from shock and no doubt blood loss. He touches Anduin’s face, smearing blood on his cheeks, smiling softly before his eyes roll back, and he collapses. Anduin wails pitifully, scrambling to check for a pulse. It’s weak, but it’s still there, his father’s breath slow, but even.

Genn shoos Anduin out the way, gently lifting the other king and slinging him as gracefully as possible over his back. They all but run out of the forest, Anduin praying that his father survives the journey back to Stormwind. He has so many questions. So much he wants to say. He can only trust in the light right now. As he strokes his father’s matted hair from where he’s draped over Reverence and urges the beast home.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really hoped you enjoyed.


End file.
